Here you'll find

 

Traces of Doubt

 

 

 

 

15. Unacceptable?

Arria groaned, badly wanting to bang his head against the desk in front of him.

"Orwel, we have a problem."

"What is it?" Orwel turned around in his chair, looking alarmed. "Is there something wrong with the mothership?"

"Not exactly," Arria sighed. "Or maybe yes, after all. Oh for goodness' sake..."

"Stop speaking in riddles! What's the matter?" Orwel abandoned whatever he had been busy with and stood up. "Has there been trouble after they entered the system? They should reach Jainah very soon, and when they're in orbit 每"

Arria looked at him with an ominous expression. "They are in orbit. Just got a message. Quentham Oyston telling me that they're expecting the fleet to embark in three hours."

"What?" Orwel gaped at his fellow commander. "Are you telling me that the leader of the Ashanti Wolves is up there in the mothership? And what about the farewell party we promised the guys?"

"I'd better call Osip here," Arria muttered and dug up his comm.

Osip reached the room in less than ten minutes, heard the message, and promptly exploded.

"No goddamn fucking way! The guys have been promised a farewell party and that's what they'll bloody well get! If Mr. Illustrious Oyston wants our fleet, then Mr. Illustrious Oyston will wait twelve hours so that the guys can party a little, get some sleep, and spend some time with their friends staying here!"

"The message was rather short and clearly worded," Arria pointed out, and didn't even wince when Osip whirled around and banged a fist on the table. He'd known to expect it.

"Let him be as clear as he wants, but he'd better get one thing straight right away 每 he might be in charge of the mothership, but the fleet and its support personnel are mine. I'm in charge of them and their welfare, and if that imperious prick 每"

"Osip!"

"每 thinks he's going to command any of my pilots around at will, he's badly mistaken!" Osip was fuming, pacing back and forth around the room. "Get me a visual to the mothership, right now."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," Arria said mildly.

"It's the perfect idea," Osip corrected, his tone thunderous. "He needs to know that we will not be embarking in fucking three hours, doesn't he?"

Arria's dark eyes examined him for a moment, then the blond man nodded and stepped to the panel. "But I'm warning you, Osip. If you blow your top when the two of you aren't even on the same planet..."

"We will be able to work together," Osip said, jaw clenching. "There're just some things that must be made clear from the very beginning, and one those is that he's not going to be the only person on this mission whose opinions matter. I have duties towards my guys."

Arria took a deep breath. "Right. Here goes."

Establishing visual connection between the base and the mothership orbiting the planet didn't take long, and Osip stepped into the range of the camera, squaring his shoulders. The screen cleared after only minimal flickering, and they could see what looked like a command room in the mothership, and a slim, dark-haired man standing in the middle of it.

He had a hawk-like face, scarred on the right cheek, with piercing dark eyes, and he wore a steel-gray suit that looked like a uniform of sorts. One eyebrow rose questioningly as he eyed the image of Osip in front of him.

"Commander Dahomey?"

"Yes," Osip ground out. "I received your message, and wanted to tell you that the timetable you requested is unacceptable."

Oyston frowned. "Unacceptable? We informed you as soon as we reached the system, and you knew the time when we'd be in orbit, give or take a few hours. What do you mean, unacceptable?"

Arria, invisible to the camera, grimaced at the haughty tone, and Osip's face tightened.

"My fleet will be ready to depart in twelve hours," he said evenly.

"Twelve?" Oyston's eyes widened. "Surely you are able to have them ready to be deployed in less than that?"

"Oh, if I gave the command now, they'd be ready within an hour," Osip said. "But the thing is that I will give no such command. We're having a farewell party here, and it's going to begin in three hours. After that they'll have their last night at home, and I'm not going to spoil that for them. They know the departure is at hand."

Oyston gave him a narrow look. "A party? At a time like this?"

"Indeed!" Arria stepped into the visual range as well and granted the outraged man a suave smile. "No time like the present. We consider it very important to give our people a proper farewell. Why don't you join us for the party? You could well make it if you headed this way immediately."

"Most certainly n每" Oyston began when a tall, black-haired woman emerged next to him, seemingly out of nowhere.

"We'd be delighted to," she said pleasantly to Arria who had trouble containing his stunned gasp. "Our shuttle should make it in time."

Bonita Heywik. Both Arria and Osip had recognized her immediately. A playful smile crept on her sculpted features as she glanced at Quentham Oyston who'd frozen in place.

"You are most welcome, Commanders," Osip said, just a little breathlessly. "We're looking forward to meeting you in person."

"Likewise, Commanders," Heywik stated and then cocked her head a little. "Would we be trespassing too much on your hospitality if we took a few of our people along? Our shuttle has room for twelve."

"Not at all," Arria assured. "We'll send you the exact coordinates in a moment."

The image faded out and Osip groaned. "Oh brother. This is going to be one tough mission."

"She's amazing," Orwel said, joining his fellow commanders in the middle of the room. "So they're both there? I don't envy you, Osip."

"I think she just might make it slightly more bearable," Osip said desperately. Arria rubbed his arm soothingly.

"I'm beginning to think that I should be joining you," he muttered under his breath. "Just so you won't spontaneously combust at some point."

Osip rolled his eyes but refrained from commenting. Orwel shook his head and smiled a little.

"I'd better attend to my duties as Base Commander and make sure that the canteen is beginning to look like a place for a party," he said and disappeared.

Safely ensconced in an otherwise unoccupied room in the accommodations complex, Lancer was staring miserably into a mirror, hair hanging loose over his bare shoulders.

"I'm not going to make it," he told his image.

"Yes you are." Andr谷 stepped out of the bathroom, brush in hand. "We've been over this already, Lancer. You know you'll make it."

"I know I'm going to cry like a waterfall!" Lancer threw his arms open and slumped in the chair. "And that's the last thing everybody needs right now."

"You will do no such thing," Andr谷 said, invisible inside a golden cascade of hair. "Damn, it's still wet in places... Besides, you cry every time you sing 'Soar Away' anyway."

"I won't be able to sing it tonight. I just won't."

"They won't let you go without hearing it, and you know it," Andr谷 pointed out. "They know you'll cry, but still they won't let you not sing it, because they love that song. Even though it's such a bittersweet piece and really hits too close to home right now, they'll want to hear it. Now get started with your makeup, you always take ages with it."

Lancer sighed and picked up one of the brushes from the table.

"Remember what we talked?" Andr谷 said softly and sat on the edge of the bed. "The guys are leaving, going out to fight. They can and will do it. The least we can to in this situation is to give them a good show, a good farewell, because that's what they've been asking for. And we can and will do that much for them, however little it is."

"You're right," Lancer whispered. "I just wish it wasn't... that they weren't..."

He inhaled deep and snapped his mouth shut. "I just wish I wasn't such a goddamn crybaby, for fuck's sake! Everybody else is calm and composed and cool about it, and they treat me like a piece of glass, and I hate myself because I feel like I actually need it..."

"Everybody else is not that cool about it," Andr谷 retorted. "Everyone's afraid, just doing their best not to show it."

"I know," Lancer sighed. "I know it. I just wish I was a little better at not showing it, too."

Andr谷 smiled to him, watching the careful touches of the shading brush that began to round and shape his friend's narrow face into something different, something cuter and softer.

"Oh, I think you're pretty good at not showing it when it really counts," he murmured. Lancer gave him a slanted look.

"Get that hair of yours dry, Queen Ariane, or you'll be a complete mess by the time you ought to be getting in your dress," he commanded.

Andr谷 grinned to him and stood up. "Oh, by the way, have you decided which one you'll take?"

"The emerald green," Lancer said quietly. "It's Scott's favorite."

"Okay, so it's the blue one for me then," Andr谷 decided. "Damn... that means I'll still have to check where I put those blue fake nails..."

Lancer smiled a little to the mirror.

A few minutes after the announced time of the party, Corinn walked somewhat hurriedly into the canteen with Vanya firmly in tow, and stopped to admire the view.

"Looks good," he commented. "And the best part of it is that I didn't have to lift a finger."

"The MCs have really got a knack for this sort of thing," Vanya admitted. "I'm awed."

"Most everyone's here already," Corinn observed, then frowned. "Where are the Commanders? I can't see any one of them."

"Maybe they've been distracted, like we were?" Vanya playfully swatted Corinn's ass and grinned apologetically at the slight gasp it elicited. "Oops... sore?"

"Maybe you got a bit overenthusiastic," Corinn hissed to him but Vanya merely winked.

"Maybe you've been wanting to be bottom a few times too many in a row, Gorgeous?" he suggested. "I'll be glad to switch, though 每 hey, there they... what the bloody hell?!"

"What is it?"

Corinn turned to see what Vanya was looking at, puzzled by his sudden spluttering. The two Dahomeys and Arria had just entered the canteen from the other door, the one closer to the Command Center, followed by a group of people whom Corinn couldn't remember ever seeing before. "Hey, what's going on? Who are those guys?"

"I'm 每 I-I've got to be seeing things," Vanya stuttered. "No way in hell can that be..."

"Who are they?" Corinn insisted.

"The guy next to Arria," Vanya said with obvious difficulty, "is Quentham Oyston. And the woman right now talking to Osip is Nita, Nita Heywik."

"Wow!" Corinn looked on with interest. "Are those others from the Wolves as well? I didn't know they'd be joining the party."

"I could've sworn that Quenty would rather let himself be shot than come within a lightyear of such pointless frivolity," Vanya sighed and shook his head. "Well well, the things one gets to see when one lives old enough... And of course all of this is Nita's doing, I'm willing to bet anything on that."

"Do you know any of the others?" Corinn asked, curious. Vanya squinted a little.

"Hmm... at least those three are totally strange, must be new guys... hey, but that blond one right behind Nita is Tyler! He's a pilot. And if I'm not mistaken, that red head just might belong to Kim, another pilot... Let's go!"

Vanya grabbed Corinn's arm and dragged him towards the group that was heading towards the still free tables. "It'll be nice to hear news from Ashanti, and besides I want them to meet you."

The commanders had taken their guests for a quick tour around the Base, which hadn't failed to suitably impress even the uptight Oyston, and were now giving them an equally quick summary of what was to come. Bonita Heywik looked around the canteen with obvious interest, and the other Wolves could barely suppress their delight in the prospect. Only Oyston was, predictably enough, silent and aloof, and the Jainah rebels carefully overlooked his attitude without actually ignoring the man himself. Arria was doing a particularly good job of it, telling fluently enough of the forthcoming mini-show of their two drag artists, as well as the benefits of this kind of social gatherings for the Base as a whole, seemingly oblivious to the man's one-syllable responses.

"Oh, and I see there is a chance to meet old friends, too," Bonita Heywik interrupted Arria with a smile, looking at something behind him and Oyston. "Looks very much like a certain Shenovski, unless somebody's decided to make a duplicate?"

"Nope, it's indeed the one and only me!" Vanya grinned to her. "Pleasure to meet you, Commanders, and a surprise too."

Oyston nodded in greeting and Heywik shook Vanya's hand. "Good to see you, Vanya. You've settled here for good, I understand?"

"Yes," Vanya said decisively. "Tried to make myself useful, too. I hope you've packed an explosives guy in your luggage in case you need one, though, 'cause I'm not available. Doc's orders."

"We have, don't worry!" Heywik assured him. "But what are these doc's orders about? Have you hurt yourself?"

"I got myself banged on the head back when we took over this base," Vanya explained. "And the Doc still pronounces me unfit for interplanetary travel. Besides, this is my home now. Please let me introduce my partner Corinn Jakunschek."

Corinn shook hands with the impressive woman whose bright eyes surveyed him quickly and then crinkled a little in a smile.

"Pleased to meet the man who's domesticated Vanya. My, you're every bit as impressive as could be expected..."

Corinn mumbled something indistinct, feeling the heat on his face. Vanya slapped him on the shoulder and turned to look at the other Wolves he knew, practically feeling Quenty's glare on the scarred back of his neck. Well, there's something for you to ruminate, Sir, he thought and stifled a grin.

It didn't take long before the party was in full swing, and the Commanders observed with glee that the Wolves didn't waste any time before diving in and enjoying themselves. The canteen was packed, people were milling around, rubbing elbows with each other and trying to protect the drinks they were carrying with them. Drinks were carefully regulated, even though only a tiny portion of them were alcohol-enlaced; the rebels didn't want to take any chances with their very young, genetically engineered clones, especially as the departure was so close at hand. But that didn't phase anyone, least of all the S-clones who were happily socializing and gathering in anxious anticipation to see the show. And when the green and blue apparitions glided to the makeshift 'stage' in the front, the SCs were the most eager to hush everyone so they wouldn't miss a single word or note.

Without a large orchestra to back the duo up, the show was breathtakingly intimate. Lancer and Andr谷 sang practically every piece in their repertoire to enthusiastic applause, cutting down on the usual flirting and banter between songs. Neither of them felt much up to it, nor did their audience really seem to expect it. Finally, after Andr谷 had husked the last notes of his favorite piece 'Enigma' and the subsequent clapping had died down, he sat down on his high bar stool and glanced at Lancer.

"It looks like we've exhausted our current repertoire," he said. "And now it's time for tonight's last song, before the dancing begins. I guess we all know what it will be, don't we?"

An anticipatory hum rose, then a voice above it: "Soar Away".

Maschani, Percy, Jakov and Wilson were standing by one of the pillars, Adrien right behind them. Lancer nodded wordlessly and closed his eyes.

His voice didn't falter as he began the song, very quietly. All listeners were holding their breath as he picked up volume and let his voice soar with the lyrics. Osip blinked tears from his eyes and scanned the faces of the pilots from the crowd. They were listening as if in a daze, eyes never leaving Lancer 每 Queen Marie 每 who was sitting on the edge of the high stool and singing his heart out.

The dream was always there, I guess
How long it took for me to see
That although you love me no less
You need to reach out, to be free

So spread your wings
To the morning hue
Away you fly

A thousand things
Await for you
Beyond goodbye

Soar away. *

The song was over. Lancer pushed himself slowly on his feet, face wet with tears, and managed a smile.

"I look forward to singing this to you again when you're safely back," he said quietly but clearly.

The thunder of applause that practically floated them offstage served to give everyone time to compose themselves again, at least as much as it was to show how much their music was liked. Arria sure appreciated the respite as well. He pulled himself together and went to get another drink, slinking next to the walls to avoid the big throng to the serving area. He was almost back to their table again when the happy voices of some young SCs somewhere to the right made him stiffen.

"It is so exciting! I can hardly wait to get there!"

"Yes, we have studied carefully all the information that Scott has given us so far. It is so exciting. We have never been off-planet before."

"Neither have I." Ah, that was Shaun's voice, ever so slightly more mature than the others. "I am looking forward to this as well."

"We will get more data once we reach the system. Such a big one it is, too."

"Yes, with twelve planets, and so many of them inhabited."

"I wonder if the Union will have means to attack the mothership, or if there will only be battles in the planetary atmosphere?"

"That we cannot know beforehand," Shaun said. "But in any case the Union will not be expecting to see us there."

"That is right! Oh, we will be a nasty surprise to them!" A giggle followed the words. "I am so eager to get there."

Arria closed his eyes for a moment when an involuntary shudder passed through him. The kids... exciting... yes, I suppose it would be exciting for you. What are we doing to you? What are we 每

"Arria, what's wrong?"

Arria started at the touch on his shoulder and turned to see Terry's worried frown.

"I'm all right," he said, more feebly than he had intended. Terry didn't look too convinced.

"Are you sure?" he asked. "You're rather pale... though of course I know you're upset about this mission."

"Yes," Arria breathed. "I'm just questioning the morale of this all, nothing worse than that."

"The morale?" Terry repeated. "What do you mean?"

Arria tried to swallow the words but instead they just came out in a rush.

"The SCs. All this is so damnably wrong. I mean, it's all very well for us who've joined the rebellion out of our own free will. If we want to go on fighting, and going to other systems to help the rebels there, then it is everybody's own choice and I accept that. But the SCs, all the clones... We're not treating them any better than the Union! They were created and bred to fight, to be pawns in war, and that's what they still are. The only difference is that they don't fight for the Union any more, but what does that matter? We still make them do the same thing, send them away to fight and to kill and to die, for something they haven't chosen, something they hardly understand anything about."

He leaned on the nearest table, hung his head and tried to breathe properly. "We're no better than the Union. No, in fact we're worse, because we come here and promise them something and then 每"

"Wait a moment!" Terry exclaimed, incensed, and nearly banged down the glass he'd picked from Arria's hand when it'd begun to look like the man might drop it any moment. "Don't talk such rubbish! There's a world of difference!"

"What difference?" Arria raised his head and peered at Terry with a cynical sneer that didn't suit his smooth face at all. "That we're supposedly the good guys and the Union are the bad ones?"

"No... oh no. Even I'm not that silly, although I'm just another clone." Terry searched frantically for words. "Yeah, I know that we've all been just thrown into this, that we haven't got much of a choice to say which side we're on. Even less the S-clones, or M-clones, I think, because there's such a number of them. I mean, us Ts, we're so few that it's easier to give us individual attention. But... oh, there is a difference!"

Terry shook his head. "Arria, you of all people should understand what something as simple as attitude can mean? You're not treating us like a handful of tools, to be used and discarded once we cease to be useful. You've made us, the clones, part of the Base. You count all clones among 'us'. You guys respect us, you're doing whatever you can in the circumstances to let everyone be a person, to be something valuable as such! You call us by names, goddamn it, you're worried if someone gets sick or injured, you fuss over us and try to teach us things. You, the Supreme Commander of this place, took a lot of convincing before you let me, a clone, travel to Tabaimo 每 because you were worried for me. Not for the base or something grand like that, no, you were worried that I might get into trouble and you guys wouldn't be able to help me... Fuck it, don't you think that everybody here understands enough by now to see that we fight for us all, and not just because we're told to?"

Terry finally had to stop and pant because he'd half forgotten to breathe in an effort to keep Arria quiet, but he didn't have time to continue his outpour when a tall dark shadow appeared behind the blond commander and wrapped long arms around him.

"May I have the next dance, Commander?"

Terry, still out of breath, stared after Osip whose broad form hid his smaller lover temporarily from sight as the two joined the people on the dance floor.

"I couldn't help overhearing," Osip murmured to Arria's short hair, his hold of the man's waist tightening. "And I think he's right. The SCs are not going blind into this. True, they've been bred to be pilots, so their decision to join the assault forces was certainly influenced by that. But still, they go because they want to. This time they know what they're fighting for."

Arria looked around, at the numerous SCs who were sitting and talking by the tables, laughing together, side by side with M-clones and 'random' humans. Two of them were engaged in lively conversation with a few of the visiting Wolves, who looked fascinated. He caught a glimpse of Rori explaining something to Troy who was standing next to him 每 ah, so they'd managed to coax him away from Salvador, with whom he'd spent the few days since his arrival with hardly a moment's pause. Wilson was dancing with Adrien. Several SCs were dancing, too, some with each other, others with MCs. Arria saw Sabina's clear-cut profile as she raised her face to look at Percy who was speaking to her, smiling. Maschani and Neimann were laughing raucously at something Fonzo had said.

Arria closed his eyes for a moment. He was seeing things in a new light. What was going to happen wasn't right, but then, nothing they could do would be completely right. There were only degrees of wrong, different shades of evil to choose from, and in this situation the smallest evil was to offer their help to their fellow rebels light-years away. That was why the fleet was going out, and that was why Osip was going with them.

The night was growing late and the music had mellowed. Corinn smiled wistfully to his glass and glanced at Vanya who was half-sitting on the back of a chair. "The Commanders are using the last night well," he said softly.

"Emotions running high, all around." Vanya nodded towards a corner table. Scott was sitting there on a sofa, arms around Lancer who was playing with his dark hair and looking into his eyes.

"Yeah, and our guests seem to be enjoying themselves, too." Corinn squinted a little as he peered over Vanya's shoulder towards the dance floor. "Wow. Somehow I'm not surprised that Nita knows how to dance, but I didn't believe I'd see Quenty there, too."

Vanya choked on his drink.

* Song lyrics by Aigha.

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